[h1][center][color=black]Howland Forrester-Craster's Keep[/color][/center][/h1]

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8jyQwUemNM&ab_channel=TheGringoMedia](For the Battle Of Craster's Keep)[/url]

The wildlings had gathered quickly, under a king they called "The Walker", who apparently avoided a bowman's arrows just by walking backwards. Howland was not so sure of that notion, [i]hold that thought[/i]. Howland thought, as he speared the throat of a wildling.

The man's eyes widened, and he struggled for breath, a splattering of blood geysering from his throat, onto Howland's face. It was warm, but it would soon freeze in this horrible cold. Howland cursed, before drawing his blade loose by slashing through one half of the man's neck. The man stood for a second, feebly trying to stop the bleeding with his hands, before falling back, his legs flailing as he died. Howland scanned the immediate area.

A small group of crows were engaging a giant, who threw them away like a babe would with their toys. To his right, another group of crows challenged a snow bear, it's movements too uniform to be natural, signifying a warg was in the area. Frantically looking for anyone vulnerable, he noticed a tightly strung ring of wildlings, surrounding what Howland assumed was the wargs. Howland frantically scanned the area, noticing a few crows that weren't occupied, though there were few, it would have to do.

"RANGERS!" Howland yelled, raising his sword to get their attention. The occupied ones continued fighting, but a few looked back, only to get an axe in the throat for their troubles. The Crakehall men mostly lay dead on the field, rushing out too soon in their eagerness, most being brutally maimed by the numerous enemy. Those that survived fled North, probably to be killed by Others. So what they had left was either veterans or green bloods, so old infirmity and youthful incompetence, just what Howland wanted.

"WITH ME!" He yelled, using his "Lord's voice" that his father had him perfect, allowing him to yell, heard, across the battlefield. He pointed his sword towards the concentration of wildlings, then dropping the tip towards the ground and running forwards.

He heard a soft "Aye." ring out amongst the noise of blades and death, and the stomping footprints of other crows filled his ears. He continued running forth, in front of him, one of the wildlings raised his spear, pointing it directly at Howland's head, a foolish move, as he could easily just duck under the thrust, as he did, stopping for a second, and swinging his blade into the man's leg, severing it at the knee and sending him sprawling.

He turned, to see a group of men kneeling, eyes rolled back, heads tilted up towards the sky. He heard the crows that had followed him engage the guards, allowing him the chance to simply kill the wargs. He walked forwards at a brisk pace, chopping off head after head of the defenseless wargs. Hopefully that would lead to their animals stopping, though he didn't quite understand this whole warg thing. As he chopped off the last head, he heard a guttural growling behind him.

Howland turned to see the snowbear staring him right in the face, blood from it's previous kills dripping from it's mouth. It stood on it's hind legs, and roared, a noise of pure hate, directed right at him.

Howland yelled, turning and running, they're too big to keep up with a human right?

He felt his legs come out from under him, a stinging pain going up and down his left one.

That'd be no then.

Howland slammed back first into the snow, and the snowbear proceeded to lumber forwards, just as it about reached him, Unfrey leapt onto the beast's back, the shadowcat biting into the scruff of the beast's neck. As the bear threw it's body violently, attempting to remove the beast from his back, Howland moved into a sit, he nearly fell, using the twisting motion from his fall to telagraph his next right handed thrust. He thrusted forth, and his blade speared through the bear's right eye, Howland looked at it for a second, before yelling and pushing the blade in deeper. The bear collapsed in a heap of fat and white fur.

Howland pushed himself away from the corpse, his blade still lodged in the beast's eye, as he did, he left a trail of smearing blood from his injured leg. Howland cursed to himself, before pushing into a crablike posture, and then into a stand, hopping in place for a second, just to keep his balance. Unfrey walked over, growling under it's breath, but that was just how it sounded when a shadowcat purred. Howland raised a hand, tiling his head and closing his eyes.
"I'm fine, I can still fight." He gasped, still barely aware that he had won.

Howland scanned the battlefield, most of the wildlings were dead or had fled, though the Watch had taken casualties as well, the entire detachment of Westerman soldiers had routed, probably to certain death, many of the new recruits were injured or counted amongst the many bloody corpses littering the snowy ground, white flakes falling over their eyes, forever open.

Howland was afraid however, he could not see the Lord Commander, who had been by his side at the start, back when they had horses, funny how long they lasted.

A ranger ran up to him, his face one of fear and surprise.
"Lord Commander Tyron followed the Westerman, he's trying to bring them back!" Howland's eyes opened wide, then shut again, as a foul taste entered his mouth.
"Maegor's teats, we have to follow him, he's running into a trap!" The ranger nodded, running over to the rest and gathering them, immediately, Howland set off in the direction of the Westermen.

A few minutes later, Howland heard the noise of steel hitting steel. Moving to a brisk walk, Howland saw Tyron behind a patch of trees, fighting off three wildling spearwives, one lying dead at his feet. He swung towards one, only for the other to stab through his back, he turned around on his heels, slashing across her face, only for another spearwife to impale him, left hip to right shoulder.

Howland's heart dropped so hard he nearly felt it melting the snow below his feet.

"TYRON!" He yelled out, running forwards as he did, his mind running faster than a Targaryen after his sister revealed she was pregnant. He ran towards the impaler, who grabbed a new spear from her back, readying it, only for Unfrey to pounce on her from the left, beginning to maul her brutally, one of her hands flying out towards Howland. The other spearwife moved to attack the cat, only for Howland to run her through at full sprint, throwing her off of his sword, and leaving a crescent of blood in the air.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07FTAlxrcJA&ab_channel=TheGringoMedia](For Tyron dying)[/url]

He turned back to Tyron, who laid on the ground, the spear brutally impaling him, a lake of blood surrounding him. Howland's face went white, and his wound began to ache again, he hobbled over, kneeling before Tyron, who looked at him, the color in his face completely drained.
"...Ly...man..." And then he let out one last breath, and died, his head slowly falling back, into the snow.

Howland didn't know what to do, the Lord Commander was dead, he just knelt, for about an hour before one of the rangers finally spoke up.
"We should bring the body back... It's what he would have wanted." Howland nodded, holding an arm out, allowing for one of the rangers to aid him to his feet.
"Then we shall..." Howland said, shakily.

Tyron Lannister's body was burned on the morrow, upon a pyre of any wood they could get their hands on, a bit of ironwood mixed in made the fire glow a strange mixture of orange and blue, as Tyron's body laid, hands on his chest, gripping a broken sword because they couldn't afford to lose an intact one.

And with that, Howland Forrester was elected Lord Commander.

[i]"And thus his watch... has ended."[/i]